


Lady. Murderer. Herald.

by tlcinbflo



Series: Worthy - Dallas and Cullen's Story [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6048484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tlcinbflo/pseuds/tlcinbflo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first Dragon Age piece. Dallas Trevelyan is trying to wrap her head around the events of her first day with the Inquisition when a visit from its Commander offers her a brief moment of reprieve from her thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady. Murderer. Herald.

Dallas Trevelyan pushed her hair back behind her ear as she fell onto the bench along the training area. A deep sigh ripped from her chest before she scrubbed her hands over her face. Exhaustion was setting in, but she still felt amped up. Her body was screaming at her to rest, but her mind continued to race through the events of the day.  


She had started today simply as a representative of her family. Lady Trevelyan. Then, the explosion at the Conclave. She woke in shackles. Murderer. They’d called her. What made it worse was she had no idea how she had ended up where she was. She couldn’t remember what happened, or how she had survived. Had Andraste saved her?  


It was too much, she stood, shaking out her arms and legs, and lifted the training greatsword. The wooden blade was lighter than her weapon but this still allowed her to move through the motions, muscle memory taking her through imagined battles as she tried to tire her racing mind.  


Lady.  


She couldn’t even begin to think about what her family would say. What could they say when she wasn’t even sure what to tell them? She was surely making a name for her family here, and not the one they had expected. She felt the small chuckle in her chest before it slipped from her lips. At least Bann Whatever-His-Name-Was would no longer agree to the marriage, no matter the size of her dowry. She would call that a blessing.  


Murderer.  


So many people died at the Conclave. Was she to blame? Had she done something to cause the devastation. The mock greatsword swung through the air knocking into the straw dummies. The sound of the clash ringing out in the open air. She didn’t know how she would be able to live with that on her soul.  


Herald.  


She believed in the Maker, and revered Andraste, her entire life. Was it possible He had played a hand in her life? In the events of today? Had it been Andraste who had pulled her from the Fade? She felt a slight tingle in her palm before her hand lit in green flames. The tingle intensified to a harsh burn and she hissed as she dropped her sword and stepped back to the bench. She landed hard and leaned forward.  


She blinked back tears as she rubbed the offending mark with her free hand. Her elbows were resting on her knees and she stared at her hand. Cassandra said it was killing her. She wondered how bad it would feel to chop it off. Would she be able to do it herself? She knew of men who had survived losing a hand. She could still have children with one hand. She could still be a suitable match.  


“Does it hurt?”  


She jumped slightly, and hoped it wasn’t noticeable when she looked up into the warm, concerned eyes of Commander Cullen. She felt a flush on her cheeks and was grateful for the setting sun. She prayed it went unnoticed as her eyes turned back down to her hand. “Oh, um, it doesn’t really hurt, no. It just kind of tingles until it … burns. I mean it, doesn’t feel good.” She sighed, and looked back up at him. “Okay, yes, I guess hurt is the right word.”  


She enjoyed the sound of the soft chuckle as he let it out. His eyes moved over her as he considered her, and she felt it like a caress. “You’re not what I would expect from a Noble.”  


“You’re not the first to say as much.”  


He smirked, and the scar on his lip seemed even more pronounced. She wanted to ask how he got it, but something told her it was a story kept close to the chest. Unfortunately, even through his seemingly genuine concern, she had the sense that it wasn’t a story he told often. “No, I suppose not. Where did you learn your technique?”  


“My Armsmaster back home.”  


“Your parents let you train?”  


“You’re full of questions,” she snapped her reply, and immediately regretted it as he took a step back. She could see the disappointment flash in his eyes as he nodded and mumbled an apology. She cursed herself silently. “No, they didn’t let me train.” She spoke her answer loudly, and he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “I did it anyway.”  


He smiled at her, a genuine smile, and she liked what it did to his eyes. “That does not surprise me in the least.” She felt herself chuckle, and it was odd considering her day. She was grateful for the levity of the moment, and for the fact that he closed the distance between them. He was one of a handful of people who didn’t treat her like she’d grown a second head, and he was the first person to seek her out. She didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts. “Your technique is sound. May I make a suggestion?” He asked, gesturing to the practice blade that lay at her feet. She reached for it, and his hand covered hers briefly as he took it from her.  


Their eyes locked at the contact, and she imagined she saw something flicker behind his eyes. It seemed very out of place for this setting, yet, she liked it.  


She stood with his urging. “Try holding your hands just a tad farther apart. It will give you more control of the blade, and power in your swings.” She nodded, and he stepped back. He signaled towards the dummy and she turned towards it. She took a few slow, deep breaths before she lifted the training weapon. It didn’t have the weight of a real blade, but as it cut through the air she could feel he was right. There was a resounding crack as the dummy leaned to its side after her blow. She’d cracked the stand.  


She turned and found him grinning, a knowing look in his eye. She had never seen someone say I told you so with out words, not until right now. “Well, I’ll be damned.”  


“You’re welcome.” That smirk he shot her as he turned on his heel and sauntered away from her caused interesting things to happen in her chest. She ignored it. Now was not the time for a silly infatuation. She had a Breach to close, and she had a strange feeling she would die doing it.  


As she watched him walk away, she watched those he commanded stop to give him the respect her deserved. He greeted each of them by name as he passed. She already decided her attraction was in appropriate, still it couldn’t hurt to look.  



End file.
